


A Wager Gone Wrong

by PrincePhilo



Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincePhilo/pseuds/PrincePhilo
Summary: When Twisted Fate loses a bet with Graves, he finds himself spending most of the night alone with a certain hemomancer.





	1. Blood Oranges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Warwick (sspsdd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sspsdd/gifts).



> hi hello this thing took me like five months of on and off writing bc i'm terrible but i wrote this fic for my boyfriend, i hope everyone likes it c:

      “Dammit Graves, how the hell did you convince me to do this?”

  
      Twisted Fate had little time to think. Vladimir would be there any minute. Graves and Braum had disappeared nearly twenty minutes ago, and who even knows where Rengar might be. It was incredible he had even agreed to show up for this at all. But none of them mattered. All that mattered was that, in just a few moments, he would be left all alone with the damn vampire. What would they do? What might they talk about?

  
      ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything outta his mouth aside from vague threats and bad puns.’

  
      A small knock on the door. ‘Shit. Shit that’s him. Shiiiit.’ He stood up, straightening out his coat slightly. One final glance around the room revealed everyone was still MIA. ‘That asshole probably convinced everyone to leave us alone, knowin’ I’d hate it. I’m gonna strangle him later …’

  
      Well, there was no way to stall any longer. Fate walked (slowly) across the room, pangs of annoyance and dread in every step. This was going to blow. A hesitant hand pulled the door open.  
Standing in the main room of the bar, amidst the partiers and the drunks, was Vladimir, looking as formal as ever in a red and white doublet and trousers. A smirk was on his face, and a large bag was in one hand. He offered it to TF.

  
      “What’s, uhh ..?” He was hesitant to open it.

  
      Vladimir gave a small chuckle. “Blood oranges. For the party”

  
      The audible groan from the dark haired man just seemed to make the hemomancer laugh even more.


	2. More Effort Than it's Worth

    It was an easy bet. One TF had made dozens of times before with his partner. First to get ten kills wins. Winner gets to order the other person to do one thing right after the match. It was harmless fun … usually. There had been a few hurt feelings, a few altercations … and more than their fair share of slapped faces. Graves really seemed dead-set on humiliating Fate, not that it worked often. He liked to believe his irrepressible charisma won more than a few hearts and kept all his failures forgotten.

    Their team comp was pretty standard. Fate was mid, as usual. Graves and Braum were holding things down in bot lane. Rengar would be prowling the jungle - he wasn’t the most pleasant company, but it was always nice having him on your side instead of getting repeatedly stabbed in the face. And finally, Vladimir would be taking care of things up top.

    Vlad. What a goddamn mystery.

    In all of his time at the League, there had been quite a few people TF met that he would rather not have to associate with. There were the non-humans - Alistar was okay, if a bit loud, but the others just gave him the creeps. Then there was Leblanc and her crew, the only people the gambler knew could out-lie him. The fact that she was beautiful did _not_ make up for how suspicious she was. Even an unexpected step would put him on edge. Who knew what she was plotting? And that’s not even touching the Shadow Isles. They were _literal monsters_. Why are they even here. Who allowed this.

    But Vladimir was slightly different. He wasn’t exactly a pleasure, but he was just … there. Being vaguely threatening. TF felt quite attached to his blood, but the blood mage actually didn’t seem too intimidating most of the time. His skills were quite impressive in combat, to be sure, but … the man himself didn’t reach that same level of fear. He was … well, kind of a goober. Vladimir barely spoke, but there was always that slight smirk on his face, and he laughed like the whole idea of fighting was some hilarious joke. Then, when he _did_ open his mouth … puns. Nothing. But. Puns! Not exactly the face of terror. Even if he could be a menace to his enemies, he never showed any anger or passion. He was always just … mildly amused. The man was an enigma, to say the least.

    This wasn’t even touching on Vladimir’s _questionable_ appearance.   
    The match was a stomp, luckily enough. Unluckily enough, the main ones stomping were Graves and Braum. Fate had only just gotten his third kill when his partner had hit the ten mark.

    Meeting after the game was dreadful - Graves was beaming like a damn child.  
  
    “Come on, Malcolm,” Fate began, rolling his eyes at the incredibly self-satisfied gunman, “that was hardly even a fight. They had _Varus_ , and their Bard was doing nothing but chime hunting for half the match.” The gambler crossed his arms. “Was that really enough for a bet?”   
  
    “You bet yer ass it was,” Graves replied simply. Reaching into a back pocket, he produced a cigar case. The conversation was paused while he picked one out and lighted it. Taking a long drag, he let out the smoke with a satisfied sigh. “You know we’ve played for less, and today a’int any exception.” The man grinned widely, smugly. “Didja really think I’d let ya off the hook if ya just asked nicely?”

    Fate groaned. “I was kinda hopin’, honestly.” All that did was elicit a laugh from the other man. TF just frowned, glancing away. He wasn’t too terribly surprised. Malcolm wasn’t really the sort to do _anything_ out of pity, and he certainly wouldn’t ever take pity on his partner. Years of experiences had taught him that much at least.

    Well, might as well get this over with, right? “Alright, alright, you won. So whaddya want me to do?”

    Graves just grinned for a moment. A hand went to his chin, stroking it in emphasised thought. A low ‘hmmm’ came right before an extended drag of the cigar. He held it for a moment. Finally, he blew the smoke away from Fate and looked back to him with that same smug smirk.

   “Alrighty, Fate, I’ll tell ya what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna be hosting a lil celebration for our team here. Everybody worked hard, and I think we deserve a treat, don’t you?” The gunner leaned back on a nearby tree, pausing for a moment ( _‘Probably wanting to enjoy the look of annoyance on my face,’_ ’ Fate thought) before continuing. “So you’re gonna book us a room at the usual place. One of those nice, private party spots in the back. Away from all the rabble and ruckus. And you’re gonna invite everyone from the team today. A beautiful little celebration, don’tcha think?” The man let out a little chuckle before taking another drag of his cigar.   
  
    “So you’re after my wallet today, huh?” Not the worst punishment ever, he supposed. Their little shindig could - at most - be himself, Graves, Braum, Rengar, and Vladimir. The chances of that happening seemed slim. Even if he invited them, who would even show up? Braum probably would, he was all about friendship and cooperation and similar BS. Rengar? Who even knows. Fate knew nothing about the hunter aside from his obsession with the huge purple bug. And Vladimir? Once again, a mystery. Probably not. _Hopefully_ not.

   Braum was easy to find. He was back in bot lane, surveying the scene of their victory or something. “A party, you say?” His smile was as wide and genuine as it was annoying to look at. The larger man clapped Fate on the back - painfully. It was a struggle to keep a friendly face. “I would love to come!”

_‘Great. One down, two to go, I guess.’_ Hopefully the other two wouldn’t be as painful to deal with. Walking away from the large nuisance of a man, Fate rubbed at the sore spot on his back. Why Graves put up with the pile of bothersome joyous energy that was Braum, Fate would never understand.

   Rengar proved himself to be just as predictable, thankfully. The felinoid man was sitting on the Platform, legs crossed. Numerous blades and various types of cloths and equipment sat out in front of him. His white furred paws were stained bloody red by the dagger he was currently cleaning. He always did this after a match. Fate’s face must have still looked quizzical, however.  
  
    “If you wait to clean them, the blades will dull.” The lion man gave his explanation simply and quietly, hardly glancing up at the approaching human. He never paused his work.

   “Riiight. Remember you mentionin’ something like that before …” Fate’s words trailed off, looking off to the side and adjusting his hat slightly. The idea of inviting Rengar seemed fine before, but now he found himself slightly intimidated. Maybe it was all the knives. No matter. Couldn’t back out now. “Hey uh, if you’re not too busy with … weapon maintenance, or whatever else ya might do, me and some a the other guys are going out for drinks later. A little celebration.” He gave his best smile. “Dunno if you drink or anything, but it could be fun. Graves is going, and Braum -”  
  
    “Sure. I’ll go.” His response was given without ever even looking up from his work.

   Twisted Fate stood perfectly still for a moment, his smile frozen on his face. It needed time to sink in. Finally, it was there. “W. Wait. You .. wanna do it?” He blinked and stared at the lion.

   “Yeah, sure.” He repeated himself, continuing to rub at the bloodied implement. “I’ve been meaning to look around the city recently. There are rumors of something wandering the streets at night - might make for an interesting hunt.” He finally looked up from his cleaning. A toothy grin slowly crossed his face. “Besides, you said it yourself. Could be … fun, right? Hah.”  
  
    The way he said fun was a little nerve-wracking, but okay. Definitely can’t retract it now. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be trouble … some members of the League were definitely dangerous, but they wouldn’t risk the repercussions of breaking League rules here, right? Aside from some of the more … magically insidious, perhaps. But Rengar should know better. Hopefully. Either way, that was another down. All that was left was the blood mage. Great.

   Where the hell would he even _be_?

   It took, on average,  about thirty minutes after a match was concluded for the Summoner’s Platform to power back up and teleport them out. That was because they didn’t get out until it was time to prepare for the next match. When they were warped out, the next set of participants were warped in. Working the Platforms was a lot of effort, apparently, and the League had saw fit to cut corners in exchange for some occasional boredom. It usually didn’t matter, unless a match had gone particularly short like today’s. It would be just shy of an hour until they could leave. That gave Fate nearly an hour to hunt down his target. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

   Top lane was a bust. Irelia was there, doing some form training with her enchanted blades. She claimed not to have seen Vlad since the match concluded. Mid lane was empty. He had already seen bot.

   The jungle was big and annoying to search, so it was to the red team’s platform next. Lux was there, apparently attempting to comfort an angered Varus. Neither had seen anyone, aside from Bard very briefly. It was … somewhere. The faint sound of chiming in the distance just seemed to inflame Varus again. Fate found himself tempted to invite the light mage to tonight’s party - someone pleasant to talk to would make for a nice change of pace - but in the end he simply excused himself to continue his search.

   About half an hour of wandering among the jungle later, and the only things Fate had found were a napping Jax, several chimes, and a headache. He finally stopped to rest, sitting under a shady tree with a beautiful view of Krugs.

   “Dammit, this is way more effort than it's worth.” The man reached up, pulling his wide-brimmed hat off and setting it gently on the ground next to him. “I don’t even think there’s anywhere left t’ look … I guess I just won’t find him.”  
  
    “Find who?”   
  
    Twisted Fate jumped to his feet, one hand clutching at his chest. Standing nearby, leaning casually on a rock wall, was Vladimir. He had the same casual smirk as always, as if someone had just told a mediocre joke. The only person here who _would_ tell a shitty joke, however, was the bloody pun master himself.

   “Hell, Vlad. You scared me,” he said, exasperated. It took a moment to steady his breathing again. He gave a slight sigh. “I was looking for ya, you know.”

   “Oh, I know.” The white-haired man crossed his arms and continued to smirk.

   “Do you, now? And how long have ya known, pray tell?”  
  
    “Since Graves told me about twenty minutes ago. It didn’t take me long to find you, but … you seemed to be enjoying your stroll through the jungle.” His smile suddenly looked even more wicked. “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I decided to bide my time.”   
  
    _‘Or you liked watching me look for you when I didn’t need to, huh?’_ Fate suppressed the urge to grimace at the unpleasant hemomancer. Instead, he dusted off his hat, donned it once more, and produced the fakest smile he could muster.

   “Well, I’m so glad to have found you at last,” Fate began, walking a bit closer to the other man. “I’m actually here because -”  
  
    “Because you’re inviting people to a party, right? Later tonight?” His face didn’t change, but TF’s must have, because Vladimir gave a slight laugh. “I heard you talking about it with Rengar earlier. I was in base, too, but I … guess you didn’t see me.”   
  
    _‘So you were hiding, you little shit.’_  
  
    “At the time, I figured you probably wouldn’t be inviting me, so I didn’t bother to make my presence known. Had I known then what I know now … well, we could’ve avoided this whole mess, couldn’t we?” His words sounded disingenuous, but maybe that was just his voice. Or maybe he was a huge asshole. It was really hard to tell, especially since his face barely changed at all as he spoke.

   Fate forced a laugh. “Heh. Yeah, I reckon that woulda made life a whole lot easier, huh?” That was an absolute understatement. “But that doesn’t matter now. No big deal. I found you, and you even already know the deal. So.” His smile wavered - even his charisma was being put to the test by this. “You wanna come, or what?”  
  
    “Oh, sure. I’d love to.”

   That was exactly what Twisted Fate was worried he might say.


	3. I'd Hate to Leave you Alone

   “O-Oh.” Twisted Fate couldn’t quite suppress the surprise in his voice. He cleared his throat, trying to center himself. “Are you sure? I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting ya to … say yes.” He gave a laugh, as casual as could be. Vladimir really got under his skin, made it hard to focus, but Fate was determined to keep himself together. The gambler grinned, as dazzling and appealing as he could manage. Which, he thought, was pretty damn good.  
  
Vladimir seemed to think the same. Maybe? His expression never actually changed. That calm smirk remained. Hopefully that meant he didn’t pick up Fate’s obvious distaste. Fate didn’t really care too much if he offended most people in the League, but the hemomancer was definitely on his “do not piss off” list. Most people respected the rules the Institute of War set regarding conduct out of matches, but there were occasional incidents caused by the less reputable members. Vlad had yet to cause such a thing as far as TF knew, but he wouldn’t put it past the annoying enigma.

“I might not have said yes,” Vladimir remarked, voice cool and casual, “if I hadn’t seen you go through so much effort. It would be quite rude of me to spurn your invitation now, after you went through so much trouble to deliver it.” The smile he gave almost seemed genuine. And maybe he was being sincere, but something about his voice just screamed sarcasm to Fate. He couldn’t tell if he was being comforted or taunted.   
  
“Oh no, really, it wasn’t no trouble.” Fate lied, lyingly. “And you shouldn’t feel obliged. The others are goin’, and I gotta say I can’t imagine there’ll be much fun to be had with Braum and Rengar there.” He chuckled a bit, maintaining the facade of friendly joking. While he did partially think that might be true (It wouldn’t be the first time Braum tagged along, and Fate knew he didn’t like having the big idiot there. As for Rengar, it was hard to imagine him cutting loose at any point without things getting weird or bloody.) he also hoped it would help to deter Vlad’s attendance. No such luck.   
  
“If that’s the case, then I feel even more like I should attend. I would hate to leave you alone in an unpleasant social situation.” Once again, every word that came out of his mouth sounded sarcastic. Maybe he knew the whole time that Fate didn’t want him there. Maybe this was his way of getting revenge, taunting him endlessly. Or maybe he really did mean well.   
  
Twisted Fate was already so frustrated he wanted to deck Graves in the jaw.   
  
“That’s awful kind of you, but I really don’t -”   
  
“Please, don’t think anything of it.” The white-haired man interjected, cutting off any further protests. “Just tell me where and when, and I’ll make sure to be there.”   
  
His smirk was infuriating. Fate had to calm himself for a moment, then grinned again and gave the details. Vlad committed them to memory.   
  
A loud gong-like noise suddenly filled the air. “Oh, looks like our ride is finally here.” Fate commented. It was time to leave the rift at last. The platform would be up-and-running now, and all that was left was to get back to it.   
  
“Shall we go together? I’d be happy to accompany you,” Vlad responded, a sly smirk still on his face.    
  
_ ‘Absolutely not,’ _ Fate thought. He simply shook his head. “Nah, I think I’m gonna rest another minute. You go on ahead, I’ll be there in a sec.”   
  
Vladimir nodded, smiled, and began to leave. Fate watched him go, leaning back against one of the rocky outcroppings forming the boundaries of the jungle. He noticed how the tails of his robe just barely avoided sliding along the ground, how his shoulders were confidently pushed back, how his hair was a goddamn mess. Did he even own a brush?   
  
His thoughts drifted to the night ahead. A night of drinking and gambling was usually something to look forward to. He and Graves spent more nights in bars than they did at home. But add in a painfully nice shirtless weirdo, a giant murder-cat, and  _ Vladimir _ ?   
  
This was gonna suck.


	4. You Seem Surprised to See Me

    “You seem surprised to see me, Twisted Fate,” Vladimir suddenly remarked, breaking the silence that had come over the room.   
  
Truth be told, Fate was a little surprised. Most certainly not in a good way, either. Vladimir just looked so … out of place. This bar was a far cry from the kind of high-quality you’d expect to see someone in an outfit like his. It was hard to tear his eyes away from the hemomancer’s gaudy clothes.   
  
“Err … y’ could say that.” Fate shook his head, trying to get his head back into the right place. “Ya just look a little … overdressed, y’know? Looking like that, well, ya probably drew some attention comin’ in.” And attention on the two of them alone wasn’t something Fate wanted. This was already difficult enough, he didn’t need people talking about this.   
  
Not that he thought the clothes looked bad on Vlad, though …   
  
“Is that so?” Vladimir looked a bit thoughtful. “I have not been to an establishment like this before. I was going to wear something less flashy, but then I thought I might be underdressed. That wouldn’t stand, of course.” His matter-of-fact tone was almost enough to throw Fate off his point. He almost agreed with the white-haired man for a moment. “But enough about that. Are you the only member of our party here? Am I early?”   
  
Fate sighed slightly. “No, you’re pretty much right on time. Graves and Braum were early, and vanished about as soon as they arrived. Rengar’s probably just late, if he shows at all.” God, he could use a cigarette right now. “So I reckon it’s just you an’ me for now. Hope that doesn’t disappoint ya too much.” He didn’t actually give a flying fuck about disappointing the other man, but it seemed like an appropriate thing to say.   
  
But Vladimir didn’t seem disappointed at all, instead, he simply sat down in the booth next to Fate. There was plenty of room elsewhere, but he situated himself right next to the first man. Fate felt a twinge of nervousness creep up his spine - why the hell was he getting this close? He practically bristled at the newcomer. Vlad didn’t seem to notice.   
  
After a long pause, Vlad turned to look Fate directly in the face. “So, would you care to enlighten me on what I should be expecting tonight?”   
  
“I - what?” The card slinger felt slightly threatened.   
  
“I mean, what we might do here in the place. As I said, I’ve never been to an establishment similar to this one before.” He looked around the room, as if surveying his surroundings. “I know drinking is typically involved, and games of chance and the like are common, but beyond that I am unsure. I find it hard to believe that anyone would be able to entertain themselves for an entire night with nothing but liquor and card games.”   
  
Fate found himself surprised yet again. Vladimir continued to act in ways he didn’t expect. He sounded like he was reciting research on bar culture. How out of touch could this guy really be? Everyone knew about alcohol. Hell, Fate had been partial to the stuff since childhood - even when it was kept away from him. It was hard for him to imagine anyone without  _ any _ sort of second-hand knowledge on this sort of stuff. Was Vlad being genuine, or was he just trying to rile him up? Damn, this was not his forte.   
  
“Uhh … well, yknow. That’s mostly it, usually. Just a group a guys, or gals I guess, just drinkin’ and swappin stories. Sometimes ya play cards or dice, sometimes ya … do other stuff, I guess.” He suddenly found himself struggling to come up with examples, but whatever. “But it’s usually just the drinkin and talkin. Guess it’s different for other people, but that’s how we do it around here.”   
  
The white-haired mage seemed to consider that for a moment. The look on his face was difficult to read. That was pretty much just par for the course, as far as Fate was concerned.

“Interesting,” Vladimir responded at last. “I’m quite interested in these practices. Please, would you show me your … mastery of the cards? That I might understand them better.”   
  
_ ’So five seconds ago, you thought a night of cards would be boring. Now you want to play?’  _ Fate thought to himself, repressing a frown. What a fake. Was he being condescending? He repressed the urge to say anything rude, opting to pull out his deck instead. “You ever play cards before? Know anything at all ‘bout em?” As he spoke, he shuffled the cards in a flashy manner, flourishing with a few and laying them face-up on the table.  
  
Unsurprisingly, the hemomancer shook his head. “I’ve never handled cards of this like before. I can count, obviously, but I admit to not knowing the meaning of the lettered ones. I believe they’re the … court cards?”   
  
Fate nodded. “I’ll explain the rules to ya, then we can play a few hands and I’m sure you’ll figure it out from there. I’ll even take it easy on ya, heh.” The man chuckled slightly. Even if the company was poor, there wasn’t a single situation that couldn’t be improved by a little game of chance.   



	5. You Might be Missin Somethin Here

    Well, even going easy on him proved difficult. There was inept, and then there was Vladimir playing poker. Some part of TF was hoping the mage would prove to be some kind of savant. Or that he was trying to hustle him. Anything was better than the complete one-sided destruction that occupied the last two hours. It was … a little fun, at first. But there was no desperation from Vladimir. No great longing to win. It felt like he was hardly trying. He’d fold more often than not - as if he had anything to lose in a game with no stakes? - and would graciously complement Fate’s performance after every other hand.    
  
This was frustrating as hell. At this point, he was completely convinced Vladimir was making fun of him. Toying with him, maybe. Every word out of this guy’s mouth just dripped with dishonesty. He’d had about all he could stand.   
  
After another easy win, he stood suddenly from the table. “If you’ll excuse me a second,” he said, barely restrained hostility in his voice, “I think I need a little air. Back in a minute.” Without waiting for a response, he quickly left Vladimir alone in the small room.   
  
The bar proper was now in full activity. Normally, Fate was the kind to enjoy this sort of bustling environment. Lots of possible marks to exploit. Interesting people to talk to. Even if he wasn’t making money, it was fun just to meet strangers sometimes. But none of this held any interest to him tonight. No, he was on a mission, and he would find his man. It wasn’t long before the target was spotted - Graves, sitting cozy next to Braum, Rengar (wow he really did show up) across from them.   
  
The way Fate approached must have made his feelings obvious, because Graves quickly disentangled himself from the man next to him and shooed everyone. TF made it to the table just as Braum and Rengar made their timely escape into the crowd.   
  
“Heya Fate,” Graves remarked, casual as can be. “Enjoyin’ yer night?” He grinned, sipping at a glass of something with a strong smell.   
  
In place of an answer, Fate simply reached out and upended the man’s drink onto him.   
  
“... guess I can take that for a ‘no’,” Graves responded sourly. His shirt was now thoroughly soaked and uncomfortably clinging to him. “Yer friend givin ya a hard time?”   
  
“You could say that,” Fate said, glaring at the seated man. “Though I’m not sure I wanna call you my ‘friend’ after abandoning me all night. What happened to ‘let’s all party together’, eh? Not ‘let’s leave poor ole’ Fate all alone with the damn vampire’.”   
  
Graves rubbed at the back of his neck for a moment. “... well, what’s been goin’ on? Tell me what the issue is. Preferably in a way that don’t get me any more covered in whiskey.”   
  
Though the temptation to grab something else nearby and splash it on him was great, Fate simply took a seat across from Graves. “It’s that damn asshole mage, what else? He’s a goddamn enigma. First, he follows me around at the rift, yeah? Then he brings a weird present when he shows up here, dressed to the nines like it’s some kinda opera house. Keeps askin me about m’ cards, and then when we actually play, he’s terrible! But he doesn’t seem t’ care! He just keeps tellin me what a good player I am, weird sarcastic shit like that. I don’t get it.”   
  
After a moment, Graves gave a long, low sigh. “Fate. I think you might be missin somethin here.”   
  
“The hell you mean, Malcolm?”   
  
The gunner looked around the room for a moment. Finally, his eyes rested on one person and he pointed. “See, look over there,” he remarked. Fate followed his finger, spotting a familiar red-headed bounty hunter across the bar. She was surrounded by a gaggle of people, men and women, most seeming to give their attention to her. “Now, I want ya to try somethin. Imagine her doing all those things. Not Vladimir, mysterious blood weirdo, but good ole Sarah Fortune.” He paused, reaching over and drinking from what Fate could only assume was Braum’s glass. “Now, if she was the one givin ya presents, dressin all nice for ya, and tellin ya how good ya are at stuff, what would you think she was doin?”   
  
“Probably tryin to take me in for my bounty,” he responded flatly. Graves seemed to bristle at the answer, slamming down his glass.   
  
“Goddamnit, that’s not what I -- okay. Look. How about this. What if it was someone who  _ looked _ just like Fortune, but wasn’t her? What then?”   
  
Fate paused for a moment, thinking. “Probably a disguise.”   
  
Unexpectedly, Graves reached out and smacked Fate on the side of the head. “No, you giant fuckin’ idiot! I meant -- he’s flirtin with you!” Graves sat back down, an incredulous and frustrated look on his face. “Mother Below, you are as thick as a brick sometimes, you know that?”   
  
“I … what, really? You think so?” Fate raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.   
  
“I  _ know _ so, ya damn moron. Why do ya think I intercepted everyone out here and left you two alone? Vlad asked me for help. Said he didn’t know much about ‘courtship’ but thought I’d be the one ta know what ya like. So I told him! I told him ta look nice, compliment ya, getcha talkin about yer damn cards.” The man nodded sternly, as if offended his advice didn’t work. “If ya weren’t so hung up on him being a bit of an oddball, I say it woulda worked.”   
  
Twisted Fate found himself at a loss for words. Vladimir was … trying to hit on him? That wasn’t really a considered possibility, but … it  _ could _ make sense. That tone to his voice, what if it was supposed to be flirty? Or maybe he really did just sound like that. Either way … “So, what should I do about it?”   
  
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Well damn man, I can’t make all the decision for ya. If ya like what ya see, then go back to him with a better attitude! If not, then … don’t! Didn’t think I’d have to explain THAT to ya too.” The man was clearly exasperated with his friend by this point. “So go! Go talk to him! Reject him or don’t! I don’t fuckin’ care. I just wanna get back to my own date, you interrupting dickhead.”   
  
Fate couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Alright, alright. I’ll get out of your hair.” He stood, straightening his coat out. Before walking away, he pointed a stern finger at Graves. “But don’t you even think of tryin’ to put that spilt drink on my tab. That’s what you get for tryin to pull a fast one on Twisted Fate.”   
  
The seated man just waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, bite me. Now get outta here already!”   
  
Fate nodded, crossing the room again. He stopped outside the door. Vladimir would be waiting on the other side. The gambler paused, taking a deep breath and centering himself.  _ ‘Alright Fate, you can do this. Now that ya know the situation, it’ll be much easier. Just. Don’t let him get under your skin.’ _   
  
After a brief pause, he pushed the door open.   
  
“Oh, welcome back,” Vladimir responded simply, a smirk on his face. That same smirk as always. Now that he taking a new look at it, maybe it didn’t seem so haughty. It was almost … inviting? “I was wondering when you would return.”   
  
Fate grinned in response, the first genuine smile he’d given all night. “No need to worry,” he remarked, approaching the table and seating himself across from the white-haired man yet again. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Now, I believe when we left off, I was kickin your ass at cards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S IT FOLKS, WE HAVE GAYS
> 
> vladimir has like four lines of lore and almost no established personality other than "shit-eating grin" and "blood puns" so i hope u enjoy my take on things


End file.
